


Thunder Thursday

by Infernium



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Battle, Cannibalism, Gen, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernium/pseuds/Infernium
Summary: Really weird unrefined work about the breeder boy mentioned in Loid_Void's work getting super angry and challenging imperator furiosa to the thunder dome on gas town's famous amnesty day. This also happens to be a Thursday.A lotta story in one tiny snippet.





	Thunder Thursday

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sweetnesses of Maxie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798869) by [loid_void](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loid_void/pseuds/loid_void). 



Nobody really even noticed the disappearance of the people eater. 

He died. 

Whatever.

Gastown, along with its government and its people didn't care much for whatever happened to the guy who has long since become a marionette to his own council, appointed years ago. His men simply marked his death down as a casualty and considered the precious resources lost to the "citadel imperator gone rogue" as collateral damage. Business was coming in from all corners of the wasteland and the town was prospering without the immortan and his silly aquifier.

Parts of Joe's armor were even appearing in the shifty hands of shady merchants in select gas town districts and it was almost amusing how many of them turned out to be fakes. 

However, all the events that had transpired a month or so ago were completely obscured to the Amnesty, the night where any man or woman, be they a scavenger, a mercenary or a mere vagabond, could enter Gas Town and trade freely among the inhabitants. The lines of trucks, caravans, makeshift aircrafts, and people on foot practically shaking to enter the prosperous kaleidoscope of commerce and pollution known as gastown was truly a marvel to witness.

This night brought about a curious duet of circumstances, as it was also a Thursnight, a thunder Thursday (held at night). As cheesy as the name sounds, that is what the gas town officials opted to call the one night of the week when entrance to view a bloodbath at the thunderdome plus was at half price (or almost free, because at a certain point, the doormen would just let people in, and crowds would flood the surrounding area of the arena like fire ants). The stakes were especially high tonight, rumor had it that furiosa, "the" furiosa was going to battle some kid nobody's ever heard of. The legendary woman had many fans who were practically creaming themselves at the idea that they would be able to see her mop the floor with some kid. In person. Right here in the town's own eighth wonder of the world.

As the viewing area was quickly packed like a box of matches, all on fire, the ear wrenching sound of a horn silenced the disorganized chatter of the public. Somewhere, suspended above the caged arena, an announcer, voice flamboyant as the night itself, began to speak.

"In the right corner of the arena, she's big, she's mean, she tore the immortality out of the Immortan...imperator "bag of nails" furiosa!"

The crowd boomed, they created a noise that would rival that of a thousand jumbo jets taking off at the same time. A woman emerged into the arena, the look of a million experiences, a million deaths in her obscured grey eyes. At a glance, she hadn't changed much since the events of the previous month, except for a few minor changes of garment. Dressed much like any regular mercenary, brandishing her gleaming steel claw that was crudely fitted to the stump of what was once her right arm. 

There was virtually no reason for furiosa to be here, in fact, she went simply out of spite, to prove that she cared for not only the people she directly rescued from joe's cruel ordinance but for all the people of the citadel. 

"In the left corner of the arena, the challenger, clad in white and ready to kill, the daring maxie!"

The hesitation in the announcer's voice contrasted embarrassingly with his prior confidence. Everyone knew furiosa, yet nobody knew who this "Maxie" was. The figure, who, as per the announcer, was clad in white, looked meager and frail compared to her opponent. The crowd curiously eyed the messily tied sandy brown hair and the small stature of the young girl who stood there, wearing but torn white shorts and an oversized grey shirt, patched up and ragged. 

They were engulfed in total silence, occasionally whispering, hushed tones prowling among them like insects in the tall grass, curious about the young girl. 

A special contest this was, not like the standard one where factions of multiple men and women would all go at each other gladiator style with weapons they brought. This battle was one on one, no weapons to start wit. Up close and personal. 

"We will throw you bones once you begin. But for now, use only your fists. And legs...and teeth. Begin!" 

The announcer went silent and the two opponents slowly began circling the vast arena, tightening the space between them, eyes locked on each other. Faces flat, unreadable, yet radiating with unspoken emotions and questions. 

"I'm going to die here. But in the name of justice, I am taking you down with me!" A daring exclamation erupted from the mouth of the figure clad in white, and the crowd soon learned that it was no young girl, but a boy. At that point, furiosa's face lit up, as she recalled who her opponent was. Immortan Joe wasn't the only person to had designated breeders on the citadel. His son, Rictus, also was rumored to have one. Nobody ever saw the afore mentioned breeder though, and some people thought that it was just imaginary friend that the cognitively impaired manchild was rambling about. 

Could this not have been that very person? Why would a prisoner, enslaved and used for sex and torture, be challenging the woman who broke him and a handful of others like him free? Let alone to a match where the odds were fatally stacked against him? 

Without warning, the boy charged at furiosa, trying to pounce on her, knock her off balance. Of course, she dodged it with the quick prowess of a highly trained imperator. She evaded the next one, and the next. This was a joke. They squabbled around like that for a while until the bloodthirst of the crowd heightened to such a level that hands began emerging out of the dark, grotesque mass of spectators, offering blunt weapons to the opponents in the ring. Maxie scurried to collect the first thing he caught glimpse of, a polearm fashioned from a blade smelted onto a metal rod. 

Furiosa didn't even take a weapon. She could finish this battle with her hands tied behind her back. She was presented with a dozen chances to grab hold of the boy's clothes, fling him onto the floor and step on his neck, breaking his spinal cord and ending it there. She felt sorry, however, pitying this young, lost child who hadn't even seen her before. She decided to let him have his fun and end his life painlessly when he was tired out. The woman, despite her appearance, had a kind heart. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

Asked furiosa, dodging the attempted blow of the polearm. 

With undying persistence, endless determination, the boy swung again, missing, of course. 

"You took my life away. You took my reason to live. You took everything I had..."

Was he implying the citadel? Joe's presence? Was he another mislead fanatic thinking that if he sprayed his face with paint and destroyed his body he would ride highways in the clouds?

"Oh. You're just another wannabe warboy. At least shave your head next time."

Now this was just silly. The woman didnt come here to play games. Furiosa stopped his blade with a swift movement of the metal claw, which obeyed her body's commands as if it truly was a part of her body. She tossed the polearm aside. Along with the boy who earnestly held onto it. 

He tumbled, but quickly composed himself and rose to his feet, being met by his opponent now holding a weapon of her own. A machete that was dropped from above by an impatient spectator. 

"Someone rip someone's head off already! I didn't come here to see no drama show!" A man yelled impatiently from somewhere among the crowd. 

The machete came down without hesitation, missing the agile boy only by a hair. 

"What? You thought all the breeders were unhappy complaining little runts?" 

The boy was now armed with his trusty polearm, lashing at furiosa, meeting the cold steel of the machete each time.

"I was born among the wretched. I grew up never knowing what it's like to have a family. To have someone to care (His voice quivered) about." 

Furiously, the blade came down on the hardened imperator, curving around the machete and slicing the leather just above her knee. 

Alright, now this game was getting ridiculous. Furiosa wasn't up for hearing some bullshit love story about Stockholm syndrome. She already took his "life" or whatever. Might as well end this and get back to more important matters. 

With cold determination, she skillfully lunged at her opponent, catching him off guard (of course) creating a deep laceration across his grey shirt. The shirt momentarily became pink. Then red. 

Shocked, the boy lost the grip on his spear and  his hesitation created an opportunity, that opportunity was used to slice the boy's upper arm. 

The battle was basically over. 

Furiosa slashed at him a few more times, as he made a petty attempt to back away and compose himself. At that moment, everyone understood that the boy was fighting a truly losing battle. There wouldn't be some miraculous turn of events where he would suddenly become a battle master and take his opponent down. He didn't come here to fight, he didn't even know how to fight. 

The boy stoped dead in his tracks. Collapsing onto his knees as if awaiting his execution. He really did come here just to die.

Their eyes met, and furiosa saw a world of pain and torment in those vast blue islands surrounded by a sea of white. A hope long extinguished by this world, a childish hope, morphing into a monstrous determination in a split second. It was as if he saw something that no words could explain. His pale face sparked up like a lit canister of gasoline. 

The entire arena and all the mangled faces merged into one big boiling concoction of greys and blacks as furiosa was knocked back without any explanation. She had two firm little arms around her neck before she could compose herself, and an explosion of shooting, agonizing pain in her throat as a hearty tuft of sandy hair hit her face and she realized that the boy used the only weapon nature had given him. His teeth.

The boy's jaw was pure iron, and no punch, kick or metal claw to the back could pry the jaws of the bleeding white clad boy open. Her eyes widened as her eyes met the face of a person who had just bitten someone's trachea open. She only faintly heard the clank of yet another weapon being thrown into the arena. 

Mouth bloodied, chest bloodied, arms bloodied, the boy, brimming with newly found powers had a wooden bat in his hands. A spiked, barbed bat. 

"Wh...why."

The bat came down, and all went dark. 

"Because my big brother is here to pick me up. And he..."

The boy paused, lifting the heavy object, now crimson in colour and casting it down with whatever last ounce of strength and fury he had in him.

"And he deserves to live in a world without you."

An endless storm of cries came from the crowd. 

"You could have waited. Joe would have given into his illnesses in a matter of years and passed on his own."

The boy dug his teeth into her now exposed facial flesh. 

"Angharad would have given birth. You could have raised that child yourself. Created a harmonious empire."

Over the gasps and excited awes of the crowd, the boy maintained his composure and continued biting into the bloodied carcass.

"You impatient woman."

The announcer picked up his microphone, as a group of men began prying the boy away from his opponent. He was eating the destroyed face of the woman he'd ended. The battle was over.

"And the winner is...Maxie! The boy clad in white. Now someone please get that kid a medic." 

The eyes of the boy focused in and out of reality, seeing first the strangers pulling him away, then a man of tan, orange complexion and extremely huge stature rushing to the scene and practically tossing the strangers like rags aside. 

With the last inch. The last drop of energy he had in him, the boy threw up his arms, one arm dangling loosely, unable to catch up, wrapping them around the bigger man. 

He pondered his time, dragging himself like a living corpse through the streets of gas town, a life unworthy of life. He pondered the day he first set eyes on the large man standing next to the immortan when he was distributing water to the wretched, staring in pure awe and admiration at whatever features he could analyze from that far away. The time he swiped a pair of binoculars, one lens broken, from the woman next to him in the crowd, just to get a closer look at the man he would never be able to meet. The disbelief he felt when he was selected, purely based on his appearance as a breeder for that same man. The day he learned that his name was Rictus. The first time he called Rictus his "big brother" and the gesture was kindly accepted.

He remembered the time when his brother became angry with him and branded him, by himself, with a rusty blade. And of course the day when his brother, his love, his only reason to be alive, told him to wait patiently in the little room he was given until he was back. It was an important mission, he was told. It would take a few days but the breeder boy would be greeted with love and many gifts if he waited patiently, like he was told. 

His brother, Rictus, never came. Instead, only furiosa came back and let any of joe's remaining servants leave. Joe was dead, and his son, Rictus, too was dead. They died because of her. 

Maybe this is what the afterlife was. Maybe maxie died of blood loss on the arena and never saw the face of his beloved brother in the crowd. Maybe he was hallucinating about what he wanted to see. What he wanted to happen. 

All he knew was that he lay in a bed, somewhere deep within the heart of gas town, clinging dearly to rictus as if it was his own life that was was so desperately cherishing and adorning with kisses. 

Maxie vowed to never let go of Rictus. They were, after all, self proclaimed brothers. But hell did their bond go deeper than that. A smile, a crooked grin cracked the boy's face. He hoped joe's wives were in good health. Because he was gonna take that shit away from them whores.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah idk my writing really went kinda ew since the last time I write oh well enjoy.


End file.
